


Hands Like Ice

by Anonymous



Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:06:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jim returns to Cornwall after two weeks at sea to learn what Ross has been doing in his absence.
Relationships: Jim Hawkins/Ross Poldark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: GatheringFiKi - Secret Admirers 2020





	Hands Like Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [i_am_still_bb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_still_bb/gifts).



> For i-am-still-bb! Hope you enjoy!

Ross could hear the banging on the door from his slouched seat before the fire. He paid it no mind, only swirled the liquor in its bottle, watching the amber liquid shine before he took another swig of it. It was just warming his belly as another load of thunderous knocks rattled through the small home. 

“Gimlet!” Ross called. 

He heard no answer. Again the impatient knocking sounded and Ross was forced to kick his feet from the stool before him and plow through the house until he reached the front door. He didn’t bother to dislodge the bottle of liquor from his hand.

“Where in god’s name…” he mumbled to himself as he unlatched the lock and thrust the door open.

He gave a grunt of greeting to his friend who stood in the doorway and turned back into the house, leaving Jim to close the door behind him and speak to Ross’ back. 

“I’m not in port for five minutes before I hear of what you’ve done. Do you know what they’re saying about you?” 

“Glowing compliments, I’m sure,” Ross said.

Jim was not invited inside, nor to stay, but he peeled off his winter layers anyway. He stacked his coat and other belongings on a chair just in time for Gimlet to arrive from the stable and pick them up. “Some man I’ve never set eyes on in my life asked me if I’d heard about that dangerous esquire Pol _ dark _ \- thank you, Gimlet- who almost laid waste to Mr. Warleggan this afternoon. For all to see!”

“Word travels quickly in Cornwall,” Ross said as he leaned against the mantle and stared into the flames below. “You’ve forgotten how they all love to gossip.”

Jim stole the bottle from Ross before he could take another swig for punctuation. 

“Your hands are like ice,” Ross said.

“Do you expect me to be warm after racing my horse over the cliffs in the dead of winter?”

“Have you no gloves?”

“Have  _ you _ no sense?” Before Jim gave the bottle away to Gimlet for safe keeping, he took a sip of the stinging drink himself. He ignored Ross’ call for tea and continued on his rampage, jerking his hands away when Ross tried to take them into his own. “Can I not let you out of my sight?” he asked. “I go away for two weeks- not even that! Had I sailed any further you’d be jailed!”

“As good as dead!”

Jim glared at the sharp smile before him and let his own rage simmer. “Oh, you’re funny,” he said without a hint of his usual light. “It’s all a joke. I see.”

“No.”

“Your violent temper, your inability to think of anyone but yourself, it’s all a laugh.”

Ross grabbed Jim before he could turn away. “I can assure you, I was not thinking of myself when I threw that bastard into the mud.”

“That’s a peaceful act compared to what you did! I’ll be surprised if the next knock on your door isn’t the magistrate!”

Ross stepped so close to him, he had to crane his neck downwards so the tip of his nose wouldn’t bury itself into Jim’s curls of its own accord. His jaw was set like stone as he said, “I’d do it again. Were his crude acrimonies aimed at me, I’d have let him be. Though he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.” He released Jim and ran a hand over his face. “Selfish indeed.”

He couldn’t keep anything from Jim. The man saw right through him and knew his ways and thoughts better than anyone else. But Ross was resolute to shove away Warleggan’s exact words from that afternoon. Those, Jim would never coax from deep down in his gut where they were now stored. 

“I don’t give a damn about what this country, or any other thinks of me,” Jim said. “And nor should you. I’m sure there has been much worse said behind my back.”

“Our backs.”

Jim’s mouth clicked as it opened. “Ah,” he said after a moment.

“But you’re right. It doesn’t matter,” Ross said. This time, Jim allowed Ross to take his flushed hands. He brought them up to his mouth and blew warm air that sent a tingling all the way through his guest’s insides. “I’m sorry for causing you worry. I won’t give such a cause again.”

“How can you promise something so against your nature?”

Thick black lashes lifted to reveal dark eyes that sparkled with mischief. Jim felt Ross smile around his hands as he said, “I swear to  _ try. _ ”

After a kiss to each of Jim’s palms, Ross leaned down to his lips. The time they’d spent apart had caught up to him and it seemed as if Jim’s travels had taken him from Nampara for two months rather than two weeks. It had been much too long since he felt soft, pillowed lips on his own and eternally salty curls between his fingers. He welcomed the comforting scent of oak and his lover’s light, particular musk, begging it to replace the opaque air of liquor and candle smoke. Kiss after kiss landed on his own lips, cheek scratched against cheek, noses traced familiar lines of skin until they finally parted to see the tea had been delivered and set on the small table behind them.

Ross reached for it. “To chase the chill,” he said, as if to give an explanation for why he would ever want to leave the moment they had just shared.

“I’m plenty warm,” Jim said, kissing him again.


End file.
